A GOOD  OLD  AGE 


SERMON, 

PREACHED  AT  KIN&’s  CHAPEL, 

SUNDAY,  MARCH  7,  1841, 

( ' 

ON  THE  DEATH  OF 

JOSEPH  MAY,  ESQ., 

AGED  LXXXI  YEARS. 


BY  F.  V.  P.  GREENWOOD,  D.  D. 


PRINTED  AT  THE  REQUEST  OF  THE  FAMILY  OF  THE  DECEASED. 


BOSTON: 

PRINTED  BY  S.  N.  DICKINSON 

52  Washington  Street. 

1841. 


A GOOD  OLD  AGE. 


A 


SERMON, 


PREACHED  AT  KING’S  CHAPEL, 


SUNDAY,  MARCH  7,  1841, 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF 


JOSEPH  MAY,  ESQ., 

AGED  LXXXI  YEAES. 


BY  F.  ¥.  P.  GREENWOOD,  D.  D. 


PRINTED  AT  THE  REQUEST  OF  THE  FAMILY  OF  THE  DECEASED. 


BOSTON: 

PRINTED  BY  S.  N.  DICKINSON, 

52  Washington  Street. 


1841 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/goodoldagesermonOOgree 


SERMON. 


GENESIS  XV.  15. 

“AND  THOU  SHALT  GO  TO  THY  FATHERS  IN  PEACE  ; THOU  SHALT  BE 
BURIED  IN  A GOOD  OLD  AGE.” 

Most  men  would  fain  be  made  partakers  of  this 
divine  promise  to  Abram,  though  the  fulfilment  of 
the  desire,  so  general  and  so  natural,  is  granted  to 
but  few.  The  love  of  life,  wisely  and  mercifully 
implanted,  is  so  tenacious,  and  life  itself,  under  any 
but  the  most  uncommon  circumstances,  offers  so 
great  a balance  of  happiness  and  ease,  that  long  life 
is  generally  regarded  as  a blessing ; and  at  almost 
any  common  period  of  our  earthly  existence,  we 
would  still  have  it  protracted  a while  longer,  and 
yet  a while  longer,  indefinitely. 

Besides  this,  there  is  the  vision  of  old  age,  which 
often  presents  itself  before  us  with  great  attractive- 
ness, and  in  the  most  pleasing  colors,  especially 
after  we  have  passed  the  season  of  childhood, 
which  either  sees  it  not,  or  not  with  favor.  It  is 
the  vision  of  a quiet  and  shady  resting  place,  dress- 
ed for  us  by  younger  hands,  and  appointed  unto  us 
by  a kind  Providence,  after  we  have  borne  the 
burden  and  heat  of  the  day.  It  is  the  vision  of  a 

burton  hist,  collection 

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4 


retired  and  moss-grown  oratory,  in  which,  without 
fear  of  disturbance  by  the  noisy  and  sacrilegious 
passions,  we  may  sedately  “ kneel  upon  our  knees,” 
and  fold  our  hands,  and  say  our  prayers,  before  we 
lie  down  to  sleep.  Or,  taking  a more  domestic 
character,  it  is  the  vision  of  a peaceful  corner  in  a 
peaceful  room,  reserved  for  our  last  decaying  years, 
and  tended  by  the  assiduities  of  home,  where  we 
may  sit  for  a term  in  the  arm-chair  appropriated 
to  our  comfort,  and  discourse  with  old  friends  about 
the  old  things  which  we  have  seen  together,  and  tell 
our  inquiring  juniors  of  events  which  already  belong 
to  history,  or  which  are  only  kept  alive  in  our  mem- 
ory, — and  then  turn  aside  from  these  matters,  and 
lend  an  indulgent  ear  to  the  prattle  of  little  children. 

No  wonder  if  we  dwell  with  some  fondness  and 
longing  on  visions  like  these.  No  wonder  if  these 
visions,  and  the  love  of  life  together,  move  us  to 
regard  old  age  as  a blessing,  and  to  desire  it  for 
ourselves  and  for  our  friends.  But  we  well  know  to 
how  small  a number  of  our  race,  comparatively,  the 
visions  are  fulfilled,  and  how  many  are  denied  the 
inheritance  of  that  blessing.  Many  blossoms  are 
blighted  and  fall,  for  one  that  ripens  into  fruit.  The 
looked  for  rest  of  age  is  anticipated  by  the  deeper 
rest  of  the  grave ; and  no  one  can  live  to  be  old, 
without  being  called  to  this  trial  at  least  — that  he 
must  be  the  frequent  witness  of  early  funerals. 

But  here  the  consolation  must  be  brought  in,  that 
though  old  age  may  be  a blessing,  it  is  not  a para- 


5 


mount  blessing,  nor  the  only  blessing,  and  that  to 
many  it  might  be  no  blessing.  Though  the  appa- 
rent mercy  is  the  permission  to  live  long,  yet  the  real 
mercy  may  be,  and  in  many  cases  doubtless  is,  to  be 
taken  away  soon  from  the  evil  to  come.  It  cannot 
be  without  a purpose,  and  consequently  a good 
purpose,  that  the  all-wise  Creator  and  Disposer  calls 
away  his  young  children  from  this  earthly  scene  ; 
and  therefore  we  may  well  suppose  that  death  may 
be  the  chosen  blessing  to  such,  though  age  may  be 
also  a blessing  to  those  who  are  summoned  later. 
There  are  coronets  for  childhood,  as  well  as  crowns 
for  old  age  ; and  blessings  from  the  full  hand  of  the 
Lord  are  dispensed  to  every  intermediate  hour  of 
our  human  existence. 

And  besides  this,  I read  in  the  text  not  of  old  age 
merely,  but  of  a good  old  age,  which  implies  some- 
thing more  than  a sum  of  silent  years,  scored  like 
bare  marks  against  the  individual’s  name.  Other 
Scripture  tells  me  that  gray  hairs  are  a crown  to  the 
head  which  is  found  in  the  way  of  righteousness ; 
and  from  all  Scripture  I draw  the  inference,  that  the 
only  honorable  and  desirable  old  age  is  that  which 
has  laid  up  some  store  of  wisdom  and  virtue,  and 
can  look  back  on  a life  which  has  been  passed  in 
the  fear  and  love  and  obedience  of  God.  Every 
year  of  a sinful  and  shameful  life  is  but  an  added 
weight  of  sin  and  shame,  and  surely  not  of  glory. 
Merely  to  attain  to  the  years  of  old  age,  therefore, 
without  wisdom,  without  honor,  without  piety,  would 


6 


not  be  to  secure  a blessing,  but  rather  to  subject 
ourselves  to  a heavier  reprobation.  And  seeing  that 
it  is  not  in  our  power  to  reach,  by  our  own  efforts, 
the  more  distant  limits  of  life,  it  is  our  first  interest 
so  to  conduct  ourselves  in  our  journey,  that  if  we  are 
carried  forward  to  those  limits  by  the  Lord  of  life 
and  death,  we  may  find  that  blessing  there  which  is 
only  to  be  found  in  his  service.  In  this  way  only 
can  we  go  to  our  fathers  in  peace,  and  be  buried  in 
a good  old  age.  And  if  we  are  stopped  short  in 
our  pilgrimage,  if  we  are  summoned  away  in  the 
midst  of  our  work,  we  shall  still  inherit  the  blessing 
of  those  who  die  in  the  Lord,  which  is  the  greatest 
of  all  beatitudes. 

In  every  period  of  life,  then,  we  see  that  it  should 
be  our  chief  care,  while  we  look  forward  to  longer 
life,  to  fulfil  the  ends  of  life,  as  in  the  sight  and 
presence  of  its  Author.  A virtuous  youth  and  use- 
ful manhood  must  prepare  the  way  for  a good  old 
age  and  a peaceful  departure.  This  preparation  is 
indispensable.  Without  it,  old  age  is  not  good,  not 
honorable,  not  blessed.  It  can  wear  no  crown,  be- 
cause none  has  been  woven  for  it  by  the  hands  of 
former  industry ; no  materials  for  it  have  been 
gathered  by  the  diligence  of  preceding  years. 

Let  us  consider,  for  a moment,  what  are  some  of 
the  constituent  parts  of  this  necessary  preparation 
for  a good  and  venerable  and  happy  old  age. 

1.  There  must  be,  in  the  first  place,  the  prepara- 
tion of  a life  of  action.  Idleness,  sloth,  self-indul- 


7 


gence,  defeat  the  purposed  end.  There  is  no  true 
rest  which  has  not  first  been  earned.  We  cannot 
break  the  great  law  of  labor,  and  enjoy  the  re- 
wards of  labor  also.  Whether  with  our  hands  or 
our  heads,  we  must  work.  Whether  in  the  busy  re- 
sorts of  men,  or  in  the  retired  and  lamp-lighted 
study,  still  we  must  work,  with  such  intervals  of  re- 
laxation as  nature  demands  and  reason  grants.  Ha- 
bitual indolence,  as  well  as  actual  transgression,  is 
habitual  disobedience  to  the  laws  of  nature,  of  rea- 
son, of  society,  and  of  God.  “ God  never  allowed 
any  man,  ” says  Bp.  Hall,  “ to  do  nothing.  How 
miserable  is  the  condition  of  those  men,  who  spend 
their  time  as  if  it  were  given  to  them,  and  not  lent; 
as  if  hours  were  waste  creatures,  and  such  as  never 
should  be  accounted  for ; as  if  God  would  take  this 
for  a good  bill  of  reckoning  — Item , spent  upon  my 
pleasures,  forty  years ! ” There  is  a part  in  the  world 
for  every  one  who  is  born  into  it  to  perform ; a place 
for  every  one  to  fill.  If  the  part  and  the  place 
should  chance  to  be  of  no  repute  in  the  eyes  of 
men,  they  are  not  therefore  mean  in  the  sight  of 
God,  who  looks  mainly  to  disposition  and  duty,  and 
will  honor  those  with  his  crown  who  honor  him  with 
their  service.  • A life  of  idleness  or  empty  pleasure 
is  the  really  disreputable  life.  It  cannot  be  a prep- 
aration for  anything  which  is  good : for  of  itself  it  is 
naught  and  evil,  and  consequently  it  cannot  be  fol- 
lowed by  a good  old  age.  A good  old  age  is  a re- 
sult and  not  a fortuity.  It  can  no  more  grow  out  of 


8 


an  idle  youth  and  manhood,  than  a fruitful  branch 
can  spring  from  a dead  stock.  It  is  of  too  great 
value  to  be  bestowed  for  nothing.  It  must  be  pre- 
pared for  and  worked  for. 

2.  There  must  be,  in  the  next  place,  the  prepara- 
tion of  self-improvement.  Though  we  are  required 
to  be  active  and  to  work  while  the  working  season 
lasts,  our  labor  is  not  to  be  like  that  of  brute  ani- 
mals or  mechanical  engines.  The  work  of  a man 
must  minister,  directly  or  indirectly,  to  the  mind  and 
heart  of  a man.  Or,  if  this  be  in  some  cases  hardly  to 
be  brought  about,  our  daily  work  must  at  least  be 
made  to  admit  of  other  means  and  modes  of  intel- 
lectual and  moral  cultivation.  At  all  events,  the  man 
must  not  neglect  his  human  capacities.  The  pow- 
er and  opportunity  of  spiritual  instruction  do  not,  it 
is  true,  belong  equally  to  all ; but  some  power  and 
some  opportunity  belong  to  all.  If  many  books  be 
wanting,  or  time  to  read  them,  let  a few  be  faithful- 
ly perused,  and  faithfully  applied.  Three  books  are 
always  at  hand,  for  every  one,  which  are  wonderful 
and  full  of  wisdom,  — the  Bible  ; the  volume  of  na- 
ture ; and  the  records  of  human  experience  and  in- 
tercourse. From  these  and  all  available  sources, 
the  mind  is  to  be  fed  and  stored.  If  it  should  not 
be,  it  will  be  found  starved  and  empty,  when  the 
winter  of  age  sets  in.  A good  old  age  is  a comfort- 
able old  age,  and  it  cannot  be  comfortable  without 
some  provision  of  inward  sustenance ; it  cannot  be 
comfortable  when  its  heart  is  dry,  and  its  lustreless 


9 


eyes  are  fixed  upon  vacancy.  A good  old  age  is 
not  a blank,  a void,  a dumbness;  but  a treasury, 
abundant  in  information  and  counsel.  It  does  not 
linger  along  tediously,  a weariness  to  itself  and  oth- 
ers, but  it  lives  and  moves,  strong  and  cheerful  in 
self-derived  and  independent  resources. 

3.  But  not  for  ourselves  alone  must  we  labor,  not 
even  for  our  spiritual  improvement  alone,  in  order 
to  prepare  for  a good  old  age  : but  also  in  the  sacred 
cause  of  charity,  and  for  the  benefit  of  others.  To 
have  been  active  for  our  own  advantage  merely,  to 
have  read  and  conversed  for  our  own  satisfaction  and 
improvement  merely,  is  not  having  done  enough  for 
the  desired  and  desirable  end.  How  is  old  age  good 
unless  it  is  acknowledged  to  be  so  by  those  who  feel 
its  goodness  ? How  is  it  blessed,  unless  they  who  have 
been  relieved,  encouraged,  or  in  some  way  aided, 
shall  rise  up,  as  it  passes  by,  and  call  it  blessed  ? No 
charitable  deed  is  ever  thrown  away ; no  kind  word 
is  ever  wasted  on  the  air.  Let  us  be  assured,  if 
we  need  any  arguments  for  a life  of  benevolence, 
that  every  benevolent  action  is  safely  laid  by,  to  make 
up  the  result  of  a good  old  age,  a beloved  and  hon- 
ored old  age,  whose  every  gray  hair  is  respected, 
whose  least  word  is  hearkened  to,  and  whose  depar- 
ture from  this  scene  is  mourned  with  sincere  mourn- 
ing. Love  must  contribute  a share,  and  a very  large 
share,  to  the  preparation  for  a good  old  age ; and 
love  is  in  no  way  to  be  secured  but  by  kind  offices. 
Without  these,  which  are  in  the  power  and  gift  of 
2 


10 


the  poorest,  we  cannot  have  love,  and  without  love 
it  is  vain  to  expect  a good  old  age. 

4.  Once  more,  there  must  be  the  preparation  of 
religion.  How  can  tottering  old  age  support  itself 
without  that  staff?  How  can  it  be  reverenced 
without  that  ornament  and  dignity  ? Who  will  say, 
that  there  can  be  a good  old  age  without  that  foun- 
dation of  righteousness ; a happy  old  age  without 
that  comfort  and  solace  and  sure  resort?  If  the 
old  man  would  himself  be  honored,  he  must  be  one 
who  honors  his  Maker.  He  must  be  one  who  puts 
his  whole  trust  and  confidence  in  God,  and  is  grate- 
ful for  that  divine  mercy  and  direction  by  which  his 
wants  have  been  supplied  and  his  steps  upheld  and 
guided  all  his  life  long.  Piety  is  the  completion  of 
that  preparation  which  is  required  for  a good  old 
age  ; and  without  it,  it  cannot  be  complete.  I should 
add,  what  I believe  to  be  certainly  true,  that  the 
habitual  love  and  trust  of  piety  are  not  apt  to  appear 
in  the  life  suddenly,  and  are  not  such  states  and 
conditions  of  the  character  as  to  be  commanded  at 
the  moment  when  a man  feels  himself  to  be  growing 
old.  They  are  of  slower  and  more  careful  produc- 
tion. They  are  to  be  cultivated  betimes.  They 
are  to  be  made  early  inmates  of  the  house  and  the 
bosom.  Then  old  age  will  wear  them  naturally  and 
easily,  and  there  will  be  no  suspicion  of  their  gen- 
uineness, and  no  doubt  of  their  value  and  power. 
It  will  always  be  thought  too  easy  to  begin  to  be 
religious  in  old  age,  when  there  is  so  little  tempta- 


11 


tion  to  be  any  thing  else ; and  to  be  an  act,  likewise, 
rather  of  fear  than  of  love,  because  old  age  is  known 
by  all  to  be  in  evident  neighborhood  with  the  grave. 
The  change  to  religion  from  indifference,  or  irreli- 
gion,  is,  indeed,  at  any  season  or  period,  to  be  hailed 
with  joy ; but  the  beauty  of  religion  is  its  constancy, 
and  the  proof  of  constancy  is  only  to  be  had  from 
time.  It  is  not  treating  it  as  its  infinite  worth 
deserves,  to  invite  it  to  take  up  its  first  residence  in 
a worn  and  wearied  heart ; and  though  it  is  long 
suffering,  and  will  not  refuse  to  come,  yet  it  cannot 
manifest  its  whole  and  proper  nature  in  such  an 
abode,  and  on  such  a call.  Religion  must  shine 
upon  our  manhood,  and  then  it  will  be  the  lustre  of 
our  old  age,  and  then  only. 

A life  of  action,  of  self-improvement,  of  benevo- 
lence, of  piety  — such  is  the  preparation  for  a good 
old  age ; an  old  age  which  in  the  highest  sense  shall 
be  acknowledged  to  be  good. 

And  such  was  the  preparation  which  was  made 
for  his  old  age,  by  a well  known  member  of  this 
church,  who,  having  finished  a long  course  of  use- 
fulness on  earth,  is  now  gone  to  his  fathers  in  peace. 
His  old  age  was  emphatically  a good  old  age ; and 
it  was  so,  because  he  had  made  the  due  preparations, 
and  laid  the  firm  foundations  for  it  long  ago.  Of 
the  active  in  society,  he  was  among  the  most  active  : 
there  were  few,  not  professedly  students,  who  had  a 
greater  love  of  literature,  and  a more  ardent  desire 


12 


of  self-culture  than  he  had ; his  heart  was  full  of 
benevolence  and  sympathy  toward  his  fellow  crea- 
tures ; and  a sober  and  trusting  piety  toward  God 
his  Creator  was  the  very  light  and  guide  of  his  life. 

Mr.  May  belonged  to  a generation  which  has  now 
almost  wholly  passed  away.  A few  yet  linger,  but 
they  will  soon  be  all  gone.  He  may  be  regarded  as 
a type  and  specimen,  not  indeed  of  what  was  most 
brilliant  and  distinguished,  but  of  what  was  most 
solid  and  worthy,  staunch,  honest,  upright,  and  true 
in  that  generation.  He  was  a native  of  this  city  ; 
his  life  was  passed  in  the  open  sight  of  his  fellow 
citizens,  and  the  testimony  which  I render  is  only 
the  repetition  of  the  common  voice. 

His  integrity  has  never  been  questioned.  It  passed 
safely  through  the  trial  of  adversity  and  failure  in 
business  — a trial  which  has  proved  too  severe  for 
the  strength  of  many  — and  was  as  confidently 
relied  upon  after  that  change  as  before  it.  Perfect 
proof  of  this  is  given  by  the  fact  that  he  was  called 
on  to  fill  several  offices,  which,  though  not  conspic- 
uous, involved  important  trusts,  and  supposed  im- 
plicit confidence,  and  which  were  held  till  repeated 
intimations  of  increasing  age  warned  him  to  resign 
them. 

His  ideas  and  feelings  respecting  riches,  though 
not  perhaps  peculiar,  were  certainly  not  common. 
He  regarded  the  gift  of  property  to  one’s  children 
a questionable  good.  He  has  often  said,  that  he 
knew  many  promising  youth  who  were  stinted  in 


13 


their  intellectual  and  moral  growth  by  the  expecta- 
tion of  an  inheritance  that  would  relieve  them  from 
the  necessity  of  labor.  Every  man,  he  would  add, 
should  stand  upon  his  own  feet,  rely  upon  his  own 
resources,  know  how  to  take  care  of  himself,  supply 
his  own  wants ; and  that  parent  does  his  child  no 
good,  who  takes  from  him  the  inducement,  nay,  the 
necessity  to  do  so.* 

He  thought  it  well  and  proper,  to  engage  in  the 
pursuit  of  property  in  some  honest  and  honorable 
occupation,  as  one  of  the  means  of  unfolding  the 
faculties,  and  forming  and  establishing  the  character. 
But  he  considered  it  most  unworthy  of  a rational 
and  moral  being,  to  seek  after  riches  as  the  chief 
good . He  utterly  despised  avarice. 

When  about  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  he  was 
stopped  in  the  midst  of  a very  profitable  business, 
in  which  he  had  already  acquired  a considerable 
fortune,  by  the  result  of  an  ill-advised  speculation. 
He  foresaw  that  he  must  fail,  and  at  once  gave  up 
all  his  property,  64  even  to  the  ring  on  his  finger, 


* In  a communication  received  since  the  delivery  of  this  discourse, 
from  the  Rev.  S.  J.  May,  is  an  anecdote  which  deserves  preservation, 
as  illustrative  of  the  sentiments  of  his  father. 

“ When  I brought  to  him  my  last  College  bill  receipted,  he  folded 
it  with  an  emphatic  pressure  of  his  hand,  saying  as  he  did  it : ‘ My 
son,  I am  rejoiced  that  you  have  gotten  through  ; and  that  I have 
been  able  to  afford  you  the  advantages  you  have  enjoyed.  If  you 
have  been  faithful,  you  must  now  be  possessed  of  an  education  that 
will  enable  you  to  go  any  where  ; stand  up  among  your  fellow-men  ; 
and  by  serving  them  in  one  department  of  usefulness  or  another,  make 
yourself  worthy  of  a comfortable  livelihood,  if  no  more.  If  you  have 
not  improved  your  advantages,  or  should  be  hereafter  slothful,  I thank 
God  that  I have  not  property  to  leave  you,  that  will  hold  you  up 
in  a place  among  men,  where  you  will  not  deserve  to  stand.’  ” 


14 


for  the  benefit  of  his  creditors.”  The  suffering 
which  this  disaster  caused  revealed  to  him  that  he 
had  become  more  eager  for  property,  and  had  allow- 
ed himself  to  regard  its  possession  more  highly,  than 
was  creditable  to  his  understanding  or  good  for  his 
heart.  After  some  days  of  deep  depression,  he 
formed  the  resolution,  never  to  be  a rich  man ; but  to 
withstand  all  temptations  to  engage  again  in  the 
pursuit  of  wealth.  He  adhered  to  this  determina- 
tion. He  resolutely  refused  several  very  advanta- 
geous offers  of  partnership  in  lucrative  concerns,  and 
sought  rather  the  situation  he  held,  for  more  than 
forty  years,  in  an  Insurance  Office,  where  he  would 
receive  a competence  only  for  his  family. 

When  in  the  midst  of  his  family  he  seemed  to 
have  no  anxieties  about  business,  and  was  able  to 
give  his  whole  mind  to  the  study  of  his  favorite  au- 
thors, the  old  English  Classics,  the  best  historians, 
and  Paley  and  Priestley,  of  whom  he  was  a great 
admirer. 

He  almost  always  read  one  or  two  hours  in  the 
morning,  and  as  much  in  the  evening.  By  the  de- 
votion of  only  this  time  to  books,  he  was  able  in  the 
course  of  his  life  to  peruse  many  volumes  of  sub- 
stantial value,  of  the  contents  of  which  his  sound 
understanding  and  retentive  memory  enabled  him 
to  make  readily  a pertinent  use. 

In  active  benevolence  and  works  of  charity,  he 
seems  to  have  been  indefatigable  and  unsurpassed. 
He  was  not  able  to  bestow  large  donations  on  public 


15 


institutions,  but  he  was  a valuable  friend,  promoter, 
and  director  of  some  of  the  most  important  of  them.* 
His  private  charities  are  not  to  be  numbered.  I 
believe  that  without  much  trouble  he  might  be 
traced  through  every  quarter  of  the  city  by  the  foot- 
prints of  his  benefactions.  Pensioners  came  to  the 
door  of  his  house  as  they  do  in  some  countries  to 
the  gate  of  a convent.  The  worthy  poor  found  in 
him  a friend,  and  the  unworthy  he  endeavored  to 
reform.  His  aid  to  those  in  distress  and  need  was 
in  many  cases  not  merely  temporary  and  limited  to 
single  applications,  but  as  extensive  and  permanent 
as  the  life  and  future  course  of  its  object.  I think 
I may  be  allowed  to  mention,  as  one  instance  of 
this  effectual  species  of  charity,  that  one  whole 
family  of  fatherless  and  motherless  and  destitute 
children,  bound  to  him  by  no  tie  but  that  of  human 
brotherhood,  found  a father  in  him,  and  owe  to  him, 
under  Heaven,  the  respectability  and  comfort  of 
their  earthly  condition.  It  would  appear  as  if  he 
had  expressly  listened  to  the  exhortation  of  the  son 
of  Sirach,  and  had  received  the  fulfilment  of  his 
promise  : u Be  as  a father  unto  the  fatherless,  and 
as  a husband  unto  their  mother ; so  shalt  thou  be 
as  the  Son  of  the  Most  High,  and  he  shall  love  thee 
more  than  thy  mother  doth.”f 


# He  was  particularly  interested  in  the  establishment  of  the  Asylum 
for  the  Insane,  and  the  Massachusetts  General  Hospital.  He  felt 
sure  that  these  were  charities  worthy  of  all  he  could  do  to  promote 
them,  and  he  labored  for  them  heartily  and  effectually. 

f “ He  never,”  observes  his  son,  “ seemed  to  feel  displeased  when 
asked  to  relieve  the  necessities  of  his  fellow  beings,  and  therefore 


16 


As  a friend  and  neighbor,  his  kind  attentions  and 
services  were  unremitting ; — and  how  much  of  the 
happiness  of  our  daily  being  is  dependent  on  such 
attentions  and  services ! He  knew  many  persons, 
and  suffered  himself  to  forget  none.  If  he  had  kept 
a list  of  them  he  could  not  have  been  more  punctual 
in  his  remembrances ; and  he  did  keep  a list  of 
them  in  his  friendly  heart.  But  though  he  compre- 
hended many  in  his  generous  regards,  his  strongest 
affections  were  still  at  home,  reserved  for  the  few 
who  were  nearest,  and  not  dissipated  or  rendered 
shallow  by  the  diffusion  of  his  general  charity.  The 
stream  of  his  benevolence  was  wide,  but  its  central 
channel  was  deep. 

His  love  of  nature  was  ever  fresh  and  warm.  He 
watched  the  seasons  as  they  rolled,  and  found  in 
each  much  to  excite  his  admiration  and  love  of  the 
great  Creator  and  sovereign  Disposer  of  all.  The 
flowers,  the  birds,  the  sunshine,  and  the  storm  were 
objects  of  his  continual  notice,  and  of  frequent 
remarks  in  his  Diary.  His  habit  of  walking  early 


never  hastily  dismissed  their  claims,  but  carefully  considered  them, 
that  he  might  give  substantial  and  permanent  aid. 

“ I cannot  remember  the  time,  when  he  was  not  planning  for  the 
benefit  of  several  poor  or  afflicted  persons.  The  last  few  years  of  his 
life  were  peculiarly  blessed  by  visits  from  numerous  persons,  or  the 
children  of  persons  whom  he  had  befriended.” 

“ There  was  a time  when,  as  he  afterwards  thought,  he  was  not 
discriminating  enough  in  his  charities.  The  reading  of  Malthus  on 
Population,  and  the  discussions  which  arose  upon  the  publication  of 
that  work,  modified  considerably  his  views  of  true  benevolence. 
Prevention  of  poverty  seemed  to  him  both  more  merciful  and  practi- 
cable than  the  relief  of  it:  and  he  was  therefore  continually  suggesting 
to  those  who  were  on  the  verge  of  poverty,  principles  of  economy 
and  kinds  of  labor,  by  which  they  were  enabled  to  put  themselves 
into  a comfortable  estate.” 


17 


in  the  morning,  often  before  sunrise,  which  he 
persisted  in  regularly  until  about  two  years  since, 
secured  to  him  a season  of  daily  communion  with 
the  beauties  of  Creation  and  its  Author. 

His  love  of  children  was  ardent  — and  he  inspired 
them  with  love  for  himself.  It  was  his  wish  ever  to 
have  some  children  in  his  family.  Their  joyous 
laugh  was  music  to  his  ear.  After  the  death  of  his 
first  born,  he  felt  so  lonely  that  he  adopted  a boy  to 
supply  the  vacant  place.  And  even  within  a few 
weeks  of  his  decease,  the  son  of  a widow  was 
brought  by  him  to  a home  in  his  house. 

This  is  a slight  sketch  of  what  he  was  to  society 
and  his  friends.  I shall  now  speak  briefly  of  what 
he  was  to  this  Church ; and  his  relation  to  it  was  so 
close  and  so  long  continued,  that  it  calls  for  a 
separate  mention. 

When  the  members  of  the  Old  South  congrega- 
tion returned  to  their  own  house  of  worship,  in 
1783,  after  having  occupied  ours  by  permission  for 
about  five  years,  Mr.  May,  who  was  one  of  that 
congregation,  and  at  that  time  in  his  twenty-third 
year,  preferred  to  remain  at  the  Chapel.  In  1785 
he  was  one  of  the  twenty  who  voted  to  make  those 
alterations  in  the  Liturgy,  which  cut  us  off  from  the 
trinitarian  communion,  and  caused  us  to  be  repudi- 
ated by  the  Episcopal  Church ; and  in  1787  he  was 
one  of  the  small  but  resolved  congregation  who 
ordained  the  late  Dr.  Freeman  by  their  own  author- 
ity. These  things  took  place  more  than  half  a 
3 


18 


century  ago  ; and  of  that  band  of  twenty,  and  that 
ordaining  congregation  — now  that  he  is  gone,  — 
there  is  not  one  left.  Minister  and  wardens  and 
people  — all  are  dead. 

To  the  interests  of  this  Church,  from  that  time 
to  the  day  of  his  death,  Mr.  May  was  always  a 
steady  and  efficient  friend.  Its  records,  since  the 
Revolution,  bear  witness  to  his  services  on  almost 
every  page.  He  served  as  Junior  Warden  with  Dr. 
Bulfinch,  in  1793  and  1794  — in  1795  with  Mr. 
Charles  Miller,  and  from  1798  to  1826,  a term  of 
twenty-eight  years,  with  Mr.  Ebenezer  Oliver.  It 
was  mainly  through  his  persevering  applications 
that  the  ancient  Records  and  Registers  of  the 
Chapel  were  obtained  from  the  heirs  of  Dr.  Caner, 
in  England,  in  the  year  1805 ; and  his  high  estima- 
tion of  the  value  of  such  documents,  and  particular 
attention  to  their  preservation  and  regular  continu- 
ance— which  are  too  often  reckoned  as  trivial 
matters,  and  unworthy  the  regard  of  a liberal  mind 
— are  abundantly  justified  by  the  fact,  that  since 
the  recovery  of  these  Records  and  Registers,  prop- 
erty to  a large  amount  has  been  secured,  through 
their  means  and  evidence,  to  the  rightful  possessors. 
But  I mention  this  as  one  instance  only  of  the 
attention  which  our  friend  uniformly  rendered  to  the 
duties  of  his  office  and  the  interests  of  the  Church. 

On  the  services  of  the  Church  and  the  ordinances 
of  religion  as  here  administered,  he  was  a constant 
attendant.  And  this  was  because  he  viewed  them 


19 


in  their  proper  light  as  the  outward  supports  of  order 
and  virtue,  and  the  good  helps  of  piety,  and  not 
because  he  esteemed  them  as  religion  in  themselves, 
or  substitutes  of  religion : for  if  there  ever  was  a 
man  whose  piety  was  practical,  whose  religion  was 
life-religion,  who  could  not  understand  or  enter  into 
any  views  of  religion  which  were  not  practical,  it 
was  he. 

He  had  borne  many  sorrows  in  the  course  of  his 
protracted  pilgrimage,  and  religion  had  supported 
him  under  them  all.  His  belief  in  the  sure  mercies 
of  God  and  promises  of  the  Saviour  was  as  firm  and 
deeply  rooted  as  the  mountains.  His  faith  in  a fu- 
ture and  better  life  was  as  sight.  He  saw  its  glories 
with  his  eyes,  and  the  more  distinctly  as  he  drew 
nearer  to  them.  Many  expressions  of  his,  simply 
and  strongly  declaratory  of  this  sight-like  faith, 
dwell,  and  will  always  dwell,  on  the  memories  of  his 
relatives  and  most  intimate  friends. 

His  frame  was  so  robust,  his  manner  of  living  so 
regular,  his  mind  so  calm,  his  whole  appearance  so 
promising  of  endurance,  that,  aged  as  he  was,  even 
in  his  eighty-first  year,  I had  thought  he  would  yet 
continue  for  a season  with  us,  and  come  up  for 
many  Sabbaths  to  our  solemn  assemblies.  But  it 
was  not  so  to  be.  Till  the  Sunday  before  his  death, 
he  appeared  as  usual  in  his  accustomed  seat.  For 
a few  days  afterwards,  gentle  intimations  of  death 
were  given  — hardly  alarming  to  his  friends,  and  not 
at  all  so  to  him,  though  he  perfectly  comprehended 


20 


their  meaning.  There  was  some  aberration  of  mind, 
but  no  suffering  of  the  body,  — and  then,  to  use  the 
words  of  an  old  writer  on  the  decease  of  a venerable 
prelate,  “ then  he  sweetly  fell  asleep  in  Christ,  and 
so  we  softly  draw  the  curtains  about  him.” 

I cannot  conclude  without  observing,  that  the  fu- 
nerals of  the  elders  have  of  late  been  frequent  in 
our  society.  The  ancient  pillars  are  falling,  though 
others  rise  and  stand  in  their  places.  The  links 
which  bound  us  to  the  far  past  are  breaking.  I 
am  admonished  to  look  more  and  more  earnestly 
to  the  future,  and  to  the  restorations  of  the  future, 
in  the  firm  faith  of  our  holy  religion.  The  present 
pilgrimage  appears  more  brief,  the  coming  rest  more 
permanent  and  desirable.  We  grow  old,  and  decay, 
and  die,  that  we  may  be  renewed,  and  live  without 
infirmity.  We  are  separated  in  time,  that  we  may 
be  joined  in  eternity. 

“ As  for  my  friends,  they  are  not  lost, 

The  several  vessels  of  thy  fleet, 

Though  parted  now,  by  tempests  tost, 

Shall  safely  in  the  haven  meet.” 


21 


[ From  the  Boston  Daily  Advertiser.'] 


OBITUARY. 


Died,  in  this  city,  on  the  27th  of  February,  Joseph  May,  Esq. 
81.  Mr.  May  was  a native  of  Boston,  where  he  spent  his  long 
life,  and  was  generally  known  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  city. 
He  was  educated  as  a merchant,  but  for  more  than  forty  years 
before  his  decease,  he  was  Secretary  of  a public  Insurance 
Company,  in  which  office  it  was  his  good  fortune  to  he  asso- 
ciated with  a succession  of  men  greatly  distinguished  for  moral 
and  intellectual  endowments,  by  whom  he  was  highly  esteemed, 
and  whose  society  excited  and  improved  his  own  strong  mind. 
Without  pretensions  to  literary  distinction,  he  acquired  from 
books  and  exact  observation  a great  store  of  knowledge  on 
most  subjects  of  interest  and  utility  in  the  conduct  of  life.  A 
retentive  memory  made  him  an  instructive  and  amusing 
chronicler  of  the  events  of  the  last  seventy  years,  (for  he  rarely 
lost  a fact  which  had  been  once  impressed  on  his  mind,)  and 
his  extensive  acquaintance  with  cotemporary  society  afforded 
innumerable  illustrations  of  the  character  of  the  eminent  men 
of  that  period,  as  well  as  of  domestic  occurrences. 


22 


He  was  born  in  an  age  more  remarkable  than  the  present 
for  refined  courtesy  and  formal  politeness ; when  ease,  negli- 
gence, and  indifference  were  not  so  much  admired  as  in  this 
day,  and  a respect  for  the  feelings  and  comfort  of  others  were 
among  the  requisites  of  a well  bred  gentleman. 

He  was  distinguished  for  active  kindness  and  disinterested- 
ness, and  the  writer  (in  the  course  of  a pretty  long  life)  has 
never  known  an  individual  who  did  more  to  promote  the 
happiness  of  others  than  Mr.  May.  It  was  not  his  lot  to  move 
in  an  exalted  sphere,  or  to  influence  the  destinies  of  whole 
communities,  by  the  powerful  exertion  of  great  talents  : but 
in  the  humbler  duties  of  a peace-maker,  in  reconciling  aver- 
sions and  restoring  broken  friendships ; in  reforming  guilt 
and  in  raising  weakness  from  despondency,  he  was  actively 
engaged  during  his  whole  life ; and  those  who  were  best 
acquainted  with  him,  will  admit  that  no  day  of  his  passed 
without  some  virtuous  effort  or  benevolent  action. 

His  occupations  in  business  were  laborious  and  incessant ; 
yet  by  untiring  industry,  strict  method,  and  economy  of  time, 
he  made  leisure  for  works  of  charity,  and  was  enabled  in  very 
many  instances,  to  aid  those  whose  ignorance  or  inexperience 
in  affairs  had  involved  them  in  perplexities  and  embarrass- 
ments, from  which  their  own  skill  was  insufficient  to  release 
them.  He  rescued  many  orphan  children  from  poverty, 
educated  and  brought  them  into  life ; and  very  few  men  in 
our  city  have,  according  to  their  means,  bestowed  so  much 
money  in  acts  of  beneficence  and  on  objects  of  public  utility. 
This  he  accomplished  with  a small  and  limited  income,  by  a 
wise  and  judicious  frugality ; and  what  is  quite  as  remarkable, 
he  was  able  to  restrict  his  wants  within  the  limits  of  his  means, 
and  never  regretted  what  he  could  not  obtain.  He  was  an 
encouraging  example  to  persons  of  moderate  fortune,  by 
proving  that  wealth  and  fashion  are  not  essential  to  the  high- 
est respectability,  and  that  a man  who  is  not  rich  has  within 
his  reach  advantages  infinitely  superior  to  riches. 

Mr.  May  discharged  various  public  trusts  with  honor  and 


23 


fidelity.  He  neglected  nothing  and  left  nothing  unfinished, 
which  zeal  and  labor  could  accomplish.  His  disposition  was 
extremely  cheerful  and  social,  and  his  life  a very  happy  one. 
It  was  not,  however,  without  severe  and  repeated  domestic 
afflictions,  which  he  bore  with  firmness  and  resignation : for 
he  was  religious  in  practice  as  well  as  in  faith,  and  never 
forgot  his  dependence  on  God,  or  the  great  reckoning  to  which 
he  was  to  he  called. 

He  had  no  vices,  and  as  few  faults  as  belong  to  most  men  ; 
and  his  friends  will  agree  that  they  have  rarely  known  his 
superior  in  virtue  or  wisdom. 


